


In The Public Eye

by Personifi_cat_ion



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Will Graham Loves His Dogs, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-16 19:04:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13060227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Personifi_cat_ion/pseuds/Personifi_cat_ion
Summary: Will Graham is an actor known for his captivating portrayal of roles within a variety of films and TV shows. Despite his proficiency at adopting the personas of the many characters he plays, the man is not so good at just being himself. This social anxiety means that he generally avoids interviews and talk shows, but his agent and manager are keen to appeal to his fans and force him into appearing on Hannibal's talk show.But Hannibal is not all that he seems to be at a first glance.





	1. A Warm Host

Will really wasn’t keen on appearing on talk shows, and had made that clear to his agent Beverly and manager Jack multiple times. However, his whining and pouting no longer had any effect on either of them (and trying to change Jack’s mind was like talking to a brick wall). He paced back and forth in his room backstage and tried to calm his racing heart with the breathing techniques he was taught as a kid. He hated the uncertainty of live television when there was no script, or character to become and hide behind. There were three knocks on his door in quick succession and then a fourth and fifth at a slower and louder beat; Beverly’s ‘secret’ knock. Will rolled his eyes as she walked in without waiting for his answer “Alright big shot, we’ve got five minutes until you’re on stage.” She looked at him with a quirked brow “I know you said you didn’t want to do this, but it is really important that you let the world see the real you; it stops reporters like that Freddie Lounds spreading bullshit about your character to the public.” Although Will knew she was right he couldn’t help but feel resentment, even if it was aimed more at himself than anyone else. “I know Bev, it’s just that I know I‘m bound to fuck up some stupid social que and come across as a fucking idiot.” He wanted to pretend that he didn’t care what people thought, but his entire career was kind of built on the public’s opinion of him. He hated talking to people, hated making eye contact and hated talking about his life to strangers; all things that people in the public eye were expected to excel at. Will’s problem was that he was great at acting because he could think like the characters and really become them, but he wasn’t so great at being himself. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Just try not to get to flustered over your talk show host, I know that they say you should imagine everyone in their underwear if you get stage fright – but I think imagining Hannibal Lecter without clothes would probably make you drool – I know your type!” Will cringed visibly at her wink, and tried to pretend that she hadn’t hit the nail on the head with her guess. But before he could retaliate, the buzzer that meant he had to make his way over to the stage sounded, and Will’s heart plummeted into his stomach. Beverly smiled sympathetically and patted his shoulder, “It’s just half an hour Will, and it’ll be over before you know it.” He grimaced but nodded all the same and took one last deep breath before heading out, turning back he joked, “Drinks are on you tonight.”  
***  
The stage is set out to mimic a psychiatrist’s office, with two large red velvet arm chairs facing the audience but angled inwards towards each other, at the centre of the stage. The floor of the stage is wooden with a large round carpet covering two thirds of the surface and behind the chairs lays a faux fireplace flickering like a real fire. Covering the walls behind are two large and beautiful oil paintings in intricate gold frames which surround the large silver stags head which is mounted above the fireplace. The lighting fades and silence engulfs the audience as the cameras start recording and the lighting slowly brightens. Hannibal walks onto stage from the side to the accompaniment of an original piece of classical music by the man himself. He addressed the excited studio crowd with a disarming smile and a wink as he made his way to centre stage, making a few of the audience members wolf-whistle. “Good evening to all watching tonight, I hope that you’ve all had an enjoyable day – even if that is not the case, let me ensure that you end the day on a positive as we have a very special guest with us tonight.” Will watches him from the side, hidden behind a large curtain and cannot help but be drawn in by his charisma and charming persona. He notes the way that Hannibal radiates confidence, elegance and warmth that is both captivating and ridiculously attractive. Will shakes his head and wills the thought away, no use getting flustered before he’s even gotten onto the stage he thinks –it’ll all be over in an hour and he can go home and pity himself for his social anxiety. Although, if he’s totally honest, he’s glad that he’s been booked by Hannibal (who is all charm and politeness) rather than one of the more obnoxious hosts. He feels suddenly grateful to Jack and Beverly before he hears Hannibal say, “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the incredibly talented, magnetic and truly mesmerising William Graham to the stage.” ‘Oh shit’, Will thinks as he makes his way onto the stage with a smile that he hopes is modest and not terrified and wonders what he should do with his hands. Hannibal solves that problem for him by smoothly taking his hand into a firm, but kind and grounding, handshake looking directly into Will’s eyes. Will wonders at the way the man’s eyes crinkle around the edges and relaxes into the sincerity that Hannibal radiates, managing a true smile himself. He is released from the handshake and mimics Hannibal by sitting in his assigned seat, although Will is unsure how Hannibal can somehow manage to make something as mundane as sitting down graceful. The sound of the audience wolf whistling and applauding never fails to surprise Will; he doesn’t feel like he deserves any of it. Hannibal, however, clearly disagrees with that sentiment as he looks at Will with a peculiar reverence and asks him a question; however Will misses it over the sound of the audience. He lifts his hand to rub at his neck and apologises “Sorry, I didn’t catch that?” Hannibal however looks amused and the audience laughs but settles down before the man speaks again. “I said, dear William, that I was glad you could find the time in your undoubtedly busy schedule to humour me and my questions. How was your journey, it is my understanding that you flew in from London?” Will stares at his hands although he can see the audience and the cameras in his peripheral vision and replies, “Yes, you’re right on that count, and so I hope both the audience and yourself will excuse any incoherence on my behalf, and chalk it up to the jet lag.” Will bites his lip, “Although, I think it’s fair to assume that my incoherence is less to do with jet lag and more to do with my general social awkwardness.” Hannibal chuckles along with the audience and Will finds himself relaxing for the first time since he arrived here, in Baltimore. “As your host tonight William, it is my job to ensure that you are comfortable here, and so I have taken a few liberties on your behalf.” Hannibal smirks at Will who is suddenly both apprehensive and more than a little confused. “I’m not sure I follow…” Will admits and looks towards the audience (and cameras that are staged among them) with an incredulous expression, as if to say ‘what on earth is this man planning?’ The audience laugh at his confusion and Hannibal rises from his seat taking a few long strides towards the side of the stage, returning with a blindfold which he brings to Will, “Close your eyes please.” Will does as he is asked and Hannibal wraps the blindfold around his head with a surprising gentleness, and then turns to wink at the audience who respond with laughter making Will uneasy. There is a brief silence before Will mumbles “I’m not sure how this is supposed to make me feel comfortable..?” Hannibal’s smirk is evident in his voice as he moves back to his chair and retrieves a dog treat from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. The audience coos as he lowers it to the ground and a German Shephard puppy bounds across the stage to steal the treat from his fingers. Hannibal scoops the puppy into his arms and steps towards Will’s seat, depositing the wriggling bundle onto the man’s lap and swiftly removes the blindfold. Hannibal is noticeably captivated by the instant change that overcomes Will upon seeing the puppy; the expression on Will’s face is one of genuine happiness and his demeanour is suddenly totally calm, as though he has forgotten he is being watched by millions of viewers. Hannibal returns to his seat to the ‘aww-ing’ and giggling of the audience, but doesn’t take his eyes off Will’s face – savouring the rare sight with a fondness that surprises him. The rest of the interview flies by with discussion of the new projects that Will is working on currently, and the success of other films that he has starred in recently. After showing a brief trailer of the well anticipated ‘The Wrath of The Lamb’ by esteemed director Alana Bloom and starring Will Graham as the main, Hannibal stands from his seat. Will also stands as Hannibal addresses the audience for the final time, “Thank you all for watching tonight and I will see you all next week, please give a round of applause to the enigmatic Will Graham for spending his evening with us.”


	2. An Unwelcome Gift

After his interview with Hannibal had finished and the cameras were turned off, Will was left awkwardly standing on the stage as the audience applauded and the studio lights sharpened. Mercifully, Hannibal guided him backstage with a firm hand against the small of his back, as he waved goodbye to the audience with the other hand. The connection made Will feel strangely warm, like an electric current of some sort was pulsating between them – turning his insides to mush.  
As they walked away from the stage Will’s earlier confidence was out competed by his social anxiety and he had to fight the absurd urge to lean into Hannibal’s touch for comfort. Nervous of this strange impulse, Will jerked away from the man when they made it into the safety of backstage. ‘I must be seriously fucking touch starved’ Will scolded to himself, looking down at his hands. Steadying himself with a deep breath he focused on Hannibal’s shoulder, weary of the contemplative look on the man’s face. Silence stretched between them as neither man spoke. Will suddenly became aware that he was probably socially obliged to say something and coughed, “Thank you for… tonight.” Realising how this could sound like an innuendo he hastily amended his words, “…I mean for having me.” He paused, “Err, on your show that is.”

  
Will risked a glance towards Hannibal’s face and found that the man’s eyes were crinkled with what seemed to be genuine, but not unkind amusement. “Your company is a pleasure dear William, one that I hope you will bestow upon me again in the near future.”

  
Hannibal unbuttoned the first two buttons of his suit jacket and pulled out a cream business card with nothing apart from a mobile number in a dark typewriter font on it, “Please take my personal phone number and don’t hesitate to contact me.”   
Will falters, but takes the card and tucks it into the pocket of his own jacket. “Do you hand out your personal number to all of your guests? Will asks ponderingly, because Hannibal gives off the impression that he likes to keep his private life private. “No.” Hannibal’s one word response lingers in Will’s mind as they are interrupted by Beverly’s approach.

  
Hannibal excuses himself, “Thank you William, Beverly. If you may excuse me I have some business to attend to.” He leaves with one last reflective look into Will’s eyes, which Will returns briefly. He watches as Hannibal leaves his company and is somewhat surprised that he feels disappointed to see the man go. Beverly pats will on the shoulder and exclaims, “Great job, that wasn’t so painful was it? You should see the social media responses; you’re trending at the top of twitter!”

  
Will grimaces good naturedly, “God forbid that you let me hide away from the public in peace.”

  
Beverly winks at him, “Aww come on Will, your adoring fans deserve to see the man behind their favourite characters!” She lowers her voice, “And how else would you get the chance to spend time with that gorgeous man?”

  
Will is hyper aware of the blush that involuntarily heats his face and is mortified when Beverly laughs loud enough that people start staring at them. Will changes the subject, “You said something about social media responses?”  
Beverly smirks at his obvious attempt but graciously concedes. “I wasn’t lying when I said that the public would love the real you. There are hundreds of thousands of messages but this is my favourite by far!”

  
She pulls her phone out of her pocket and holds it out to him so that he can see what is written. It’s a twitter post that has over twenty thousand retweets from someone with the username ‘PROTECT_WILL_GRAHAM’ and says …

  
OMFG, The chemistry between Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter is sooooo obvious it’s ridiculous. PLEASE CAN WE HAVE MORE OF THEM TOGETHER @BeverlyKATZ @J.Crawford @NBCstudios?

  
‘So much for changing the conversational topic’, Will thought embarrassed. “Okay that’s that then. I need a drink, where are you taking me?” He joked. Beverly instantly sobered from her earlier amusement and sighed deeply, which made Will more than a little confused and worried. “Yeah, about that…” She paused, “…Jack has banned us from going out in light of the recent Ripper murders. He thinks that it’s too dangerous as the murders all seem to be of people who are in the public eye.”

  
Will rolls his eyes; he’s never been one to allow fear of what might happen, stop him from doing what he wants to (unless you count social endeavours). Nevertheless, he’s quite content to go back to his hotel room and sleep anyway. “Alright then, I’m gonna go back to the hotel. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Beverly wishes him goodnight and promises to take him out drinking another time, Will leaves the building and catches a cab to the hotel.

  
The distance from the studio to the venue is short, but the traffic is terrible and it takes forty minutes to get back to the hotel that he’s staying at. Will wishes that he could’ve walked, it would probably have been quicker – but he didn’t much fancy the idea of being followed back by some obsessive fan, or even the Chesapeake Ripper. So Will spent the cab ride overthinking everything that had occurred tonight and agonising over what he’d said, or hadn’t said. Millions of people had been watching on their various electronical devices tonight, not one of his characters, but him -without a mask to hide behind. He was feeling increasingly vulnerable the more he thought about it and longed for the calm confidence that Hannibal had radiated, a feeling that Will had managed to project onto himself when in the man’s company onstage.

  
When he was walking up the flight of stairs to his hotel room his anxiety was buzzing in his chest like a swarm of angry hornets and he found himself jumping out of his skin when he heard a scuffling noise to his left when he reached his floor. He froze and, heart hammering in his chest, crept towards the sound. Holding his breath he readied himself to either fight or run. He poked his head out into the corridor and found that no one was there. Letting out a deep breath and berating himself for his cowardliness, he quickly made his way to his room and fumbled for the key card, letting himself in.

  
The lights automatically came on as his door unlocked and Will let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes, leaning against the door as it clicked shut behind him. He needed to have a shower, a bath would be better to soothe his overactive heart rate – but he feared never finding the will to leave the tub should he get in. So he shrugged out of his coat and peeled of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Walking into the bathroom Will turned the shower onto the second hottest setting and stepped under the steaming flow of water, mind as close to blank as he could manage. The water made his skin tingle and closing his eyes he imagined the day being washed away by the water and into the sewer through the pipes. Reopening his eyes he reached for the shower gel and shampoo (both in one convenient bottle) and scrubbed at his skin, which was turning a deep pink from the heat of the water. Finished rinsing the suds from his body he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, pulling one of the hotel’s bathrobes on.

  
He brushed his teeth and rinsing his mouth was startled by a knock at the door. He looked at the clock, it was five minutes to midnight, and there was no reason for someone to knock for him at this time. Will waited at the door with his hand on the doorknob, debating whether or not to open it. He shook his head aggressively, angry at his indecisiveness and sharply pulled the door open. He was greeted with a parcel that was elegantly wrapped in a metallic black paper with a simple matte red ribbon that was tied into a delicate bow. He looked around the corridor for a sign of the person who had delivered it but there was no one. He bit his lip and decided to bring the ‘gift’ into his room. Placing the parcel onto his bed Will looked for a gift tag and turning the parcel over he notices that the wrapping paper has the following words inscribed on it: Dear William, thank you for our conversation tonight. Yours, Hannibal Lecter. Relaxing, but confused (and a little flattered, although he would never admit it on pain of death) Will opened the gift to reveal a polished mahogany wooden box. Opening the box, a vintage bottle of The Dalmore ‘The Drew Sinclair’ whiskey was revealed. Will gaped at the bottle in his lap. Will wasn’t a whiskey snob, if anything he was content with cheaper varieties, but he knew an expensive bottle when he saw one. This whiskey must have cost over one hundred thousand pounds and there was no way that Will could accept such a gift. He couldn’t even understand what would possess someone to spend such a ridiculous amount of money on a drink, let alone actually drink it. Closing the lid he became annoyed at Hannibal for sending him such a ridiculously expensive gift, Will would never put himself in someone’s debt by accepting something so expensive. ‘The man clearly has more money than sense’, Will thought angrily. Closing the box and carefully tucking the bottle into the drawer of the bedside cabinet Will stormed over to his bundle of clothes and pulled out the business card with Hannibal’s number on it. He punched the number into his mobile and held the device up to his ear. It rang once, it rang twice, and then it rang a third and fourth time before it went through to voicemail. Infuriated Will hung up and resolved to call the man in the morning to demand what on earth he was thinking by sending Will something so stupidly expensive when he hardly even knew him. Will went to bed angry that night.

***

  
Will wakes up at 5.23am and for all his trying, cannot get back to sleep. Realising the futility of his attempts to succumb to the mindless sleep that he desires, he pulls himself out of bed and boils the kettle ready to make a cup of instant coffee. Watching the kettle boil he remembers that he requested a copy of the paper to be left outside his door and goes to retrieve it. Opening the door he is reminded of the whiskey and annoyance spikes through him, but it is instantly forgotten when he notices the headline on the paper;

  
CHESAPEAKE RIPPER STRIKES AGAIN AS AN ODE TO WILL GRAHAM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the whisky mentioned: https://www.thedalmore.com/the-collections/legendary-releases/the-drew-sinclair
> 
> Thank you for reading, once again comments and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! I've tried to format this chapter into paragraphs in order to make it easier to read (as suggested by a lovely comment leaver) but I'm not sure if I've done it correctly, so please let me know what you think! 
> 
> Many thanks and have a lovely morning/day/afternoon/evening/night x

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, have a metaphorical mince pie on the house! This is my first ever fic so please be kind ahah. Reviews are welcomed with open arms (as is constructive criticism). 
> 
> Have a lovely morning/day/afternoon/evening/night! xxx


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